


Oves Meae

by BlackSky83



Series: Ad Finem [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Awesome Stiles Stilinski, Because Canon is going to Hell, Confused Peter Hale, Confused Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale & Scott McCall Friendship, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Derek Hale never wanted to be an Alpha, Don't Have to Know Canon, Everyone Is Alive, Everyone is Part of the Pack, Families of Choice, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Good Alpha Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), He just wants love, His Pack wants to protect him too, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, Jackson Whittemore is Part of the Pack, Lydia Martin & Scott McCall Friendship, Lydia Martin Is So Done, Lydia Martin is Part of the Pack, McCall Pack, My First Work in This Fandom, No Sex, No Smut, Not Beta Read, Pack Bonding, Pack Dynamics, Pack Family, Pack Hierarchy, Peter Hale is Not Amused, Peter Hale is a Little Shit, Peter Hale is a Softie, Protective Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), SO MANY TAGS!!, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Scott McCall (Teen Wolf) Has Issues, Scott McCall (Teen Wolf) Needs a Hug, Scott McCall it's ridiculous overprotective of his pack, Scott is a Good Friend, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit, The Hales need love, The Pack is Awesome, The Pack is Confused, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, True Alpha Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), We are going to have WOLFS, What is canon., Whole wolf transformation, Wolf Instincts, why is that not a tag?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2019-11-13 06:27:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18026483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackSky83/pseuds/BlackSky83
Summary: He is not like Stiles and Lydia, both geniuses, who would probably have a plan within seconds.He is not Jackson or Alisson, both ruthless in their own way.He is not Derek. He is not Peter. He is not Malia. Or Kira. Or Aiden. Or Isaac. Or...Or...Quite honestly, he knows he was probably the worst choice.(But he was the only choice.)He is Scott McCall, not as intelligent, not as ruthless, not as experienced. He already failed once.He is Scott McCall, the Alpha of his pack, and he will make damn sure they all survive this time.(He will become whatever he needs to, to protect is pack.)





	1. Armentum

**Author's Note:**

> Look: I love Stiles. Really, I do. He is awesome. But 90% of the fanfiction in this fandom is he having sex with someone. 
> 
> Every single time travel story is about Stiles, sometimes Lydia. And okay, I get it, Scott made a lot of mistakes in Canon, he could have been a much better Alpha, but the whole damn serie is about him and yet the fanfic with him as the main character is severely lacking. So, I decided to write a Story with two of my favorite things: Awsome Alpha Scott and Time Travel. 
> 
> Whole transformation is very much a thing here. So. Big use in wolf instincts.
> 
> Fair warning: I don't remember much about the serie, I watch it years ago. So, big canon divergence. 
> 
> Oh! And English is not my first language. Any error please tell me and I will change it as soon as possible. 
> 
> Enjoy the prologue.

He doesn't gasp for breath. He doesn't jump out of bed, desperate to see proof that this is real. He doesn't immediately start planning how to save his loved ones. No.

When Scott McCall wakes up in the past, he stays in bed, blinking at the ceiling.

He is not Stiles, who's mind would probably go a mile per second, witty comments in between. He is not Derek nor Peter, whom would attack without a plan. He is not even Allison or Lydia, both who would have coldly calculate the best course of action.

He is Scott McCall, first true alpha in generations, who's whole pack was wiped out in front of him.

He is Scott, who's heart was always perhaps a bit too big. He is just Scott, who rejected his wolf side too long and his pack paid the price.

And so, when Scott McCall wakes up in the past, he stares at the ceiling, tears failing unnoticed down his cheeks.

(Scott McCall tried his best. He tried to be a good **person**. He tried to rein in his animal instincts. He tried to protect his friends and family. And yet....They were all gone.

And so, Scott decided, he will not be a good little _**human**_ this time. He will be the Alpha he was supposed to become the first time around.

He will protect his pack.

_The rest of the world can burn._ )


	2. Scintillam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before planning, before fighting, before anything, Scott goes to the only person that keeps him sane.

Scott lays in bed for hours, days, weeks (or perhaps it was only for a couple of minutes, seconds. Time stops meaning anything when all you do is runrunrun) Just waiting for everything to disappear. _("It might not work" Stiles was tired. The bags under his eyes were big and black, the only color in his too pale face. Magic was crackling down his arms, looking directly into his Alpha's eyes. Scott just nodded. What else could they do, when everyone else was gone?)_

When he finally decides to get out of bed, he looks for his mom. (His mom. The first adult to die.) ( _His mom, who **burned** to protect her cubs_.)

She is downstairs, exhausted, her uniformed dirty from a long turn. And yet, as soon as she sees Scott, there's a small smile on her face. He hugs her. (He hugs her tight. He hugs her as if she could disappear any second. He hugs her like the lifeline she is.) ( _He hugs her because is his **mom** and he never thought he would see her again.)_

And then... He runs. (He can't deal with her worrying, her gentle hands, her soft perfume. Not yet. Because maybe this isn't real, maybe it's a matter of time before he wakes up in a world where she can't worry anymore, where her hands were lost in the ashes of the world, where her scent is gone.)

He goes to the only person who will always be his anchor, who could tell him werewolf didn't exist and Scott would believe him.

Stiles opens his window after just one knock. Scott can see his room behind him. Books are open all over the floor, the wall is covered in color rope, the lines connecting images to facts. It resembles more a hurricane victim than a teens room. Stiles himself seems as awake as ever, the only thing showing his lack of sleep are the heavy bags under his eyes. "How did you get to the second....? You know what, I don't even want to know. But there are some perfectly good stairs here, you know, where your asthma won't kill you!" Stiles rambles, moving his hands with each word. Scott stays on the window, watching him, letting him get it all out before starting with the questions. (He ignores the growing panic inside. Surely he was a werewolf already. He can't be a human. No.) _(How will he protect his pack as a weak little human?)_

"Oh..." The soft amazed sound from Stiles snaps him out of his thoughts. Stiles looks at him with wide, excited eyes, before he becomes a whirlwind of activity, grabbing Scott's hand and pulling him into his room. "I was right! You are a werewolf! Ugh, it took me forever to figure it out, but it's obvious! I told you!" For a second, Stiles stops, looking at Scott with vulnerable, scared eyes, probably waiting for Scott's mocking answer. (He can remember, in another time, his disbelieving stare, his rolling eyes, his laughing words.) (By the moon, how much he **hates** his past self). "Right...?" Stiles finishes, noticing for the first time their still held hands. He tries to pull back, but Scott tightens his grip. Without a word, he pulls his Spark closer, wrapping both arms around him, burying his nose in Stiles' shoulder, his hands caressing softly the human's skin. (Stiles was **_his_** , and no werewolf would dare touch him with an Alphas scent on his skin.)

"Scotty...?" Stiles tries to tug back, but Scott can't stop the possessive growl that rips from his chest, instantly stilling the other's movement. He can't let go. Not yet. He has to make sure Stiles will be fine, safe. (He is not sure if he will ever be able to let go.) "Okay...I will take that as a, 'Yes Stiles, I'm a werewolf and my weird wolfy instincts are making me act weird.' Gotcha." Finally, Stiles returns the embrace, as always, knowing exactly what Scott needs.

(He has his spark back, his **brother**.)

They stay like that for a while, simply holding each other. Scott allows himself one last sniff before forcing his body to move back.

"Bed." He mumbles, or growls, or yells. He is not sure. Either way, after a single raised eyebrow, Stiles obeys. Scott close behind. (Peter used to be the one that made sure everyone slept, who always had food in the table, who would carry anyone back to the Den, ignoring their complaints, if he thought it necessary. Because the only thing Peter ever wanted was a _pack_ , and he took care of those in it.) (But Peter is gone, killed to give the rest of the pack time to scape.) Stiles lay with his back to the wall, a soft if perhaps confused smile on his face. Scott lays down beside him, wrapping his body around the smaller one of his friend. (His back to the window and the door. In case of an attack, he will be the first to be hurt. The first to defend.) He can feel Stile's breathing under him, can hear the beat of his heart, smell the magic in his body.

He falls asleep.   

* * *

Movement in the house wakes him up. He tightens his grip on Stiles, feels the wolf under his skin, his claws growing on his fingertips. 

"It's my dad" Stiles mumbles, half asleep, ignorant of the dangerous creature holding him. Scott breaths deeply, finally smelling the distinct scent of gun powder and cheeseburger of the Sheriff. He allows his body to relax, pulling Stiles closer to his chest.

They are safe. Completely safe.

(Maybe if he keeps repeating it, he will start believing it.)

* * *

"We can skip." This is not the first nor the last time they would willingly miss classes. Scott knows this. Still, it feels like a failure to have Stiles suggest it.

 They are outside the school, the jeep turned off. They have been there for the last ten minutes, Stiles with his door open, waiting for Scott to get out. 

 Scott can't.

 There too many _unfamiliar_ - _familiar_ - ** _confusing_** scents inside. Too many memories. Too many regrets.

 He tries to look for a joke, to defuse the tension in the air, but nothing comes to mind. So he settles with a simple; "It's fine." _I'm fine_.

 Stiles looks at him for a couple of seconds before nodding, getting out of the jeep. Scott is out seconds after, still incapable of letting his spark too far away.

 "Move it, McCall." Jackson Whittemore spats, hitting his shoulder as he walks by. Lydia, by his side, doesn’t acknowledge either of the two teens. 

("You are an asshole, but you will always be Pack." Scott holds Jackson's face in his hands, caressing his cheek with his thumb, their foreheads together. Jackson lets out a watery laugh, closing his eyes, the feeling of **_loved, protected, pack_** , cursing through his veins.)

("Do you ever wonder what life would have been like if the supernatural didn't exist?" Lydia asked, keeping her eyes on Scott's nails, which she was very delicately painting.

Scott breathes the scent of his pack, hears the voices in the den, feels the bonds in his chest.

"No." 

Lydia smiles. "Of course you wouldn't." )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I….Was not expecting this response. Tbh I didn’t expect anyone to actually read it. I don’t know what to do with this information. I was planning to make the chapter longer, but knowing there is someone out there as excited to read this as I am to write it destroy my impulse control, so here you have the first chapter. I hope you all liked it! I will try to make them longer in the future. 
> 
> Any pointers and suggestions are very much welcome! Just please be nice about it. 
> 
> I don’t know if I have to said this again, but I will in case the chapter gave the wrong impression. There is absolutely no romance in this fic. Even if I did like writing romance (which I don’t), I don’t think Scott is in a good place for that type of relationship. Soooo. Everything is platonic. 
> 
> (*Tries not to beg for comments even if I pretty much re-read them every time I need inspiration or a cheer up*)  
> °-°….I will see you…When I see you. I don’t know when this will be update. Hopefully soon.  
> Cya
> 
> Pd: In case you are wondering, the chapter's name, and the story's tittle, it's in Latin.  
> Scintillam: Spark


	3. Electiones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He is not ready for the noise, the scents, the people. 
> 
> He is not ready for them. 
> 
> (He lets them go.)

* * *

He is not used to this. The constant beating of hundreds of hearts, voices yelling, feet running against cold tile. _People._ He is not used to large groups of humans anymore _(Humans unaware of the supernatural were the first ones to die.)._

He can feel the energy, barely leash, under his skin. Can feel the anxiety growing in his chest. (He can't remember the last time he spend so much time without a battle, an injured, something.) He was waiting for an attack, for a scream of help, for death.

Stiles, somehow, knows. He stays close, talks louder when the whispers of hundreds becomes too much. He doesn't ask, though Scott can practically see the questions growing in his mind.

(Scott thanks all the gods he no longer believes in that Stiles was with him until the end. He doesn't know what he would have done otherwise.) _(That's_ _a_ _lie. He knows he would have die far sooner.)_

"We still doing the Lacrosse trial?" Stiles asks during lunch. They are in the library, Stiles laying against a bookshelf, Scott by his side, his back straight, his shoulders tense.

Scott remembers how excited Stiles was for the trials the first time around. Remembers having his best friend sending him messages well into the morning for a month, detailing the benefits of joining the team. Remembers his grin of triumph when Scott finally relanted.

He hates how weak he must look, for Stiles to backtrack.

("You don't like lacrosse?" Scott was pretty sure his mouth was hanging open, his wide eyes trained on Stiles. The other teen shrugged, a small smile on his face.

For a moment, he stayed silent, both of them watching Jackson, Isaac, Ethan and Liam fight for the ball, the sticks cracking under their hands.

"I was afraid we were going to drift apart. I though if we had something together...Well." He keeps his eyes on the others, avoiding Scott's.

The Alpha stays silent for a second before groaning, throwing his arms around Stile's shoulders.

"The only reason I agree was because I didn't want to lose you over a sport. Besides, I don't like sharing." Stiles relaxes, laying his head on Scott's shoulder. Scott can practically feel the smile on his face.

"You were always a bit possessive." Scott growls playfully, before they both start laughing, their happiness echoing around them. )

"Of course."

* * *

 

It goes... Well. Scott has a better control over his abilities, so getting on the team was relatively easy. It just that...

The keep _hitting_ him, _touching_ him, as if they had the _right._

He knows. He knows that's just how the sport is. Knows none of them mean anything by it. But...

 _Touch_ became so _precious_ in a pack. Is their way of saying "I love you", "You are mine" _**"Pack".**_ And after...After everything it became "I'm alive." "I'm here." "Not dead, not dead, not dead."

He remembers, before coming back, how he still smelled like them. And its _painful_ feeling the lingering scents of strangers against his skin.

One of his claws manages to break out when someone gets a little too close. He brings it back, closing his eyes and _breathing._

(He ignores the panic raising in him. He was never this out of control as an Alpha. But surely....Surley he was not a be---. No. He was an Alpha. He was sure of it.)

(He has yet to get the courage to look into a mirror.)

"Are you okay?" Stiles, ever loyal, stands by his side, a hand on his shoulder. Scott nods, opening his eyes, reading to tell him he is just _fine._ But then...

Then. He sees her.

She is laughing, her books clutched against her chest, her hair failing down her shoulders.

She is beautiful.

("A wolf and a hunter. Quite the combination." She murmured, and even though he couldn't see her, he knew she was smiling. He hum an agreement.)

She tills her head, as if feeling his gaze, before turning towards him. Their eyes meet.

("Listen to me Scott. No, no. Don't talk. Just for a second. Listen. Those things killed my father. They killed Isaac. They killed...They killed everyone. I'm not running anymore." Her eyes, sometimes filled with warmth and kindness, were cold, a steady flame of rage burning behind the walls of ice.

Scott doesn't look behind him. He knows what he will see. The survivors of the pack, huddle together, their bodies covered in injuries.

His silence is answered enough.

She leaves soon after, her gun ready, her bow strapped to her back.

That was the last time he saw her.)

Scott gave her a small smile before turning around, wrapping an arm around Stile's shoulder to lead him away.

(Allison Argent was fire and will. Compassion and vengeance. She loved too much. She hated too much.)

(Allison Argent was a warrior. Scott McCall was a protector.)

"Thank you." He murmurs, so low only he, and the dead, can hear.

 _(He lets her go.)_  

* * *

 

Derek stays hidden by the trees of the forest, his eyes narrowed.

A young wolf should not be able to do physical activity without getting out of control, _especially_ a recently transformed one. He had been ready to break into the school, knock the cub out if necessary, to protect him and everyone around. But...

Scott McCall didn't once act as if his powers were a struggle to keep down.

He doesn't understand. And he _doesn't like not understanding._ (That's what killed Laura.)

( _Laura. God, Laura. She's dead. Howhowhow_?)

He will watch. And he will protect the child if it comes to it.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! FIRST! Don't freak out, Allison will still be part of the story, still part of the pack (eventually) just not romantically involved with Scott. 
> 
> Alright, now I can go to the normal note. 
> 
> I'm sorry if the chapter is a bit short, I kinda had to...forced it out. I knew what I wanted, just not sure how to put it into words. Hopefully I will get better through the story and let my words flow (a beta would be super welcomed). 
> 
> And Omg guys. I just ;^; I don't know how to deal with all the love. Thank you so much. I'm glad you are all liking the story, I hope I don't disappoint ya. 
> 
> Next chapter! More pack members, more angts, more Stiles! -w- 
> 
> Chapters title: Choices


	4. Unus post unum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott starts getting his pack back, trying to remember they are not really his. Not yet.

_(“Go Peter!” Scott hopes by now the lights of the other cars are disappearing through the woods, most of his pack safely inside them. Only Derek, Peter, Jordan and him are left in the Den. Scott knows what he has to do, knows is the only way for the pack to scape._

_He knows he is going to die._

_And yet, he is only afraid for his packmates, who had yet to leave.  Jordan is in the car, ready to move at a moment notice. Derek stands under the threshold of the door, his body tense. Peter, stubborn Peter, stands calmly in the middle of the living room. Scott, scared, so so scared, stands in front of him, his eyes flashing red._

_They stayed behind to checked the traps, the runes and the bombs, hoping to at least kill some of the demons that attacked their land. It will not be enough. Someone has to stay behind. Someone has to activated it. Someone has to fight whatever is left. Someone has to give them enough time to run._

_That someone is Scott. And only the four still in the Den know the sacrifice it’s going to take for the others to live._

_But Peter is not moving. He is not following the plan (He was never good at following the plan)._

_“No.” He is calm. Says ‘no’ as if he had a **choice**. As if **Scott** was giving him a choice. He was not, dammit. _

_The Alpha growls, ready to grab his goddamn **stubborn** packmate and _throw _him to the car. He could feel them getting closer, they all could, and they didn’t have time for this shit._

_Before he can do it, arms go around his neck, tugging him into a hug. He is angry, and scared, and he can hear the monsters getting closer, but this is the last time he will see his pack, so he allows himself a small weakness (He will forever regret it).  He hugs Peter back just as tight, feeling his scent for the last time._

_He feels something prick his neck. It burns, and he knows what it is. He can’t stop the panic nor the feeling of betrayal cursing through his veins. Within seconds he is going down, only Peter’s strength keeping him up._

_“They need you, Scott.” His voice is soft, gentle. Peter looks resigned, sad and determined. So so determined. Scott would do anything to stop this, but he can’t move. Then a small, mischievous grin replaces Peter’s grim look. “ I swear to the moon, if you blame yourself for this, I will be pissed. You don’t want me as an angry ghost.” Peter murmurs, putting his head against Scott’s. For a moment, they stay like that, but then Peter licks his cheek as a last goodbye, a last apology, before softly putting him down. Scott wants to growl, flash his eyes, bite his neck and **make** Peter **leave** , but he can only watch, helpless, as Derek and Peter embrace. _

_And then Derek is carrying him out, pushing him into the car and yelling at Jordan to move. Soon, they are chasing the trails of the others. Derek is murmuring apologies under his breath, stroking Scott’s hair, promising the antidote as soon as they are safe._

_Scott isn’t listening. He doesn’t know where they are going, doesn’t hear Derek’s voice. He keeps his eyes close, tugging Peter’s bond, urging him to come, to live, to fight another day. In response, he only gets back a small caress, feeling the **lovelovelovelove** going through it. _

_Even when the explosion makes the ground shake, even when the angry howls grow around him, even when he can feel the rest of the pack’s panic, he tugs at the bond, clutching it close._

_He sense how it gets smaller and smaller, and yet, Scott keeps tugging, keeps hugging it._

_He feels the bond break under his hands.)_

He gasps for breath, sitting up and grasping his night shirt, socked with sweat. He can’t breathe. His body refuses to move. But that doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter because _he can’t feel any of his bonds_ and where is his pack? Where is everyone? An why _can’t he feel them_?

“Shh. Breathe with me. Shh Scotty.” A hand is rubbing his back, another one his chest. The voice is familiar, but Scott can’t recognize it. But maybe the voice knows where his pack is, maybe it can tell him why he can’t feel them. So Scott obeys, and breathes with whoever is besides him. “That’s it, good boy, that’s good. Open your mouth Scott, just a little.” He can feel hard plastic against his lips, before a weird taste floods his mouth.

He opens his eyes, confused. His mom is sitting down besides him, worried, his asthma medicine in her hand.

Right. The past. ( _They are all dead_ ).

“Scotty, I need you to stop crying, please baby, breathe.” She murmurs, her hand still on his back, the other one trying unsuccessfully to put the tub back in his mouth.

But he can’t. He can’t stop, because he felt them _die_. And he can’t breathed. He _doesn’t want_ to breathed.

“Scott? Scott, please.”  And then Stiles is there, holding his face between his hands, his eyes terrified. Scott brings him close, buries his head on his best friend’s shoulder, and allows himself to _remember._

They are alive. They are all alive. His mom is here, sitting beside him. Stiles is here, after dragging Scott to his house and promising to stay. Jordan was probably at the police academy. Derek should be in his house. And Peter…

Peter is currently insane, terrorizing the town, and looking for something to _kill_.

Scott feels his breath catch. His _pack._ His pack was _alive_. And most of them were suffering, one way or another. By the _fucking moon_ , how could he just go to school? To lacrosse and classes? As if he didn’t have a _goddamn_ job to do. ( _His brain is in disarray. He doesn’t know what’s past. What’s present. But that’s **no excuse** for abandoning his pack._)

“Nope. You are not going out on me again. Wakey wakey Scotty.” Stiles softly taps his cheek. Scott can’t see him, but he knows he is wearing the smile he always uses when he is scared. Scott hates that smile. He grunts in apology, bringing Stiles closer to him.

“Yes, yes. I will sleep with you. But man, you have got to get some discretion. I know I’m sexy, but your mother doesn’t need to know about our adventures.” Stile’s voice is cheeky, light. He hears his mom laugh softly by his side, and so, he allows himself and amused snort.

Scott knows he is not getting out of either of their sight tonight, so he settles down. He will sleep for a couple of hours and then…Then he will do what he should have done the second he went back to the past.

* * *

 

He starts with the easiest one. He approaches her before first period, a container of cookies in his hand. He spend all night cooking cookies with Stiles, hence, the terrible state of what he once called a kitchen. She doesn’t notice him, her head buried in her locker. He knows, now, that she is not hiding. No, she is pushing herself, mumbling under her breath, that today, _today_ was the day nothing would go wrong. He is glad to help that prediction ( _wish)_ come true. He stops besides her, murmuring a soft “Hello”.

Erica jumps, her books falling down. She ignores it, however, choosing to stare at him, her mouth slightly open. ( _Erica. Beautiful, brave, fierce Erica._ ) ( _It hurts to see her so scared, so alone._ )

“Do you want some cookies?” He mumbles, embarrassed and unsure what else to say. He knew Erica was shy before the bite, but he never quite had to deal with her like that. The bell sounds around them, and yet, they don’t move. 

“I…I c-can’t eat too much s-sugar. I’m sorry.” She murmurs, ducking her head down. (Scott wants to hit someone. Ideally, whoever was responsible for making her feel as something less.) He smiles.

“They don’t have sugar. I promise.” She raises her head, confused. Still smiling, he softly pushes the container towards her. She grabs it, her hands shaking a little. 

“Thank you.” She whispers, hugging the plastic against her chest. He stops himself from moving her hair out of her face, from telling her just how perfect she is, sickness or not. He knows, however, that Erica is absolutely terrifying when it was necessary, and he had no intention of getting hit by her. He was sure it would hurt, even if she was currently a human. Erica did always like to break basic physics rules like that.

“Would you like to have lunch with me?” Erica raises an eyebrow, looking down at the container before pinning him with her eyes.

“Is this some kind of joke?” She is frowning now, and Scott can see the anger growing with every second he stays silent.

“I…No?” He doesn’t mean for it to sound like a question, but he is honestly out of his element here. _His_ Erica was never this meek, or suspicious. He is already preparing to get his cookies throwed back at him, to see Erica run away. He is planning how on earth he is supposed to fix this. ( _He needs his Stiles. He was always so much better at this._ )

The frown hasn’t left Erica’s face, but she doesn’t attack him with the container, so he will take it as a win.

“Okay.” She murmurs, and then she is gone, leaving her locker open, the books on the floor, and a very confused wolf.

“Okay? Uh! Yeah! Awesome! See you at lunch.” He calls after her retreating back. She doesn’t acknowledge him.

He sighs, crouching down to pick up her belongings.

“That was smooth. You didn’t scare her, at all.” Stiles comments, moving over from where he had been waiting by their lockers. There’s a smile on his face, his eyes filled with mirth. Scott rolls his eyes.

“A little help would be nice.” He answers, trying to sound annoyed, but the smile tugging at his lips betrays him. Stiles laughs.

“Nah. You make her run, you pick her things.” Scott can only shake his head.

( _He needs his Stiles…But this Stiles, this happy carefree Stiles…Moon, how he missed him._ )

* * *

 

He asks Stiles to join Erica in class. The brunet is, understandably, confused. Scott hasn’t let him out of his sight since he came back and is reluctant even now to do so. But he knows the school is safe, and he knows his next packmate will only hide if more than one person approaches, he was never one for social situations.

Stiles complies, but Scott knows it won’t be much longer until his spark starts demanding answers. _That_ was definitely a conversation he was not looking forward to.

The halls are empty and he can hear the murmurs of the classes going on around him. He ignores it, going straight to the library.

Boyd is sitting in the small hallway between shelfs, a book in his legs. He doesn’t look up, even though Scott is sure he knows he is there. He kneels down besides the other teen. ( _Boyd. Gentle, loyal, witty Boyd.)_

“Can I help you?” He still doesn’t raise his head, and Scott can see how he is unsuccessfully trying to cover the words of the romantic novel. He wants to smile, to sit down and gush about _Pride and Prejudice_ , and every single novel Boyd has read. (Every book Boyd read, Scott did too. It was worth it, to see the smile on the serious man’s face when they spend hours talking about the characters latest adventure.)  But he knows Vernon has been mocked too many times to believe it would be anything but that. So he shrugs, and pretends not to see the book going under Vernon’s jacket.

“Would you like to have lunch with me?” Boyd finally looks up, and his eyes are suspicious. ( _Moon, that **hurts**.) _Scott keeps calm, looking at him expectantly.

“You came looking for me.” It is not a question, so Scott doesn’t answer. Boyd tills his head, confused. “Why?” Scott smiles. Of course Vernon will make it easy for him, he was always a straight forward guy.

“I want to be your friend.” And more. Scott wants so so much more. He wants to wrestle with him on the woods, wants to run with him under the moon, wants to sleep on a puppy pile with him by his side. He wants his packmate back.

But his packmate is dead. His smiles, his books, his laugh is gone. So Scott takes the next best thing, and _hopes_ for friendship with this new Boyd, this Boyd that will **never** feel his body being destroyed under the demons claws. For now, at least, it will have to be enough.

“Yeah, okay.” Scott knows Vernon is still confused and he knows he is probably preparing for it to be a cruel joke. But he also knows Vernon is _alone_ and so tired of it, that he will take anyone that extends him a hand. Scott will cherish that trust, and make sure Vernon never regrets it.

* * *

 

It’s awkward, at first. The four of them sit in a table at the edge of the cafeteria. Stiles keeps giving him a ‘What the hell man?’ look. Erica has yet to raise her head from her food. Boyd eats without saying a word.

Scott it’s sure this is the end of it. He doesn’t know how to act, how to start a conversation with people he knows so much and yet so little.

And then Stiles jokes. And Erica answers with a sarcastic comment. And Boyd cracks a smile. And it’s almost as if he had them back again.

He knows they are not them. Knows his pack is dead. But it’s _so hard_ to not think of them as his. To ignore the aching on his bones that yearns for his pack.

He smiles, and laughs, and teases. ( _He screams, and cries, and begs._ ) At the end, Erica and Boyd are bashfully giving their phone numbers, and a promise to reunite tomorrow.

It’s a start. ( _It’s almost enough._ )

* * *

 

A week goes by. He looks for Peter at night, but the wolf remains elusive. He doesn’t sleep, waking up from memories every time he tries. He stays close to Stiles, who has yet to corner him a demand an explanation, his suspicious looks however, are getting more common every day.

He eats with Erica, Vernon and Stiles, sees as the close bond between Erica and Vernon renews and blooms. He can feel the tentative trails of bonds forming in his chest.

And yet, he stays away from Isaac.

( _It hurts. Every time he sees his face, he remembers, and it **hurts**. Isaac, strong, reliable, wise Isaac. He hated Scott at the end. And Scott can’t. He can’t look at Isaac, because he knows he deserved it, but it hurt._)

Until Jackson doesn’t allow him to do so anymore.

“Why are you so afraid, Lahey? Scared I will go and tell daddy how much of a failure you are? Oh, but he already knows, doesn’t he? That’s why you scream every night.” Jackson’s smile is cruel, his words barely above a whisper, meant only for Isaac. He is holding him against a locker, his cronies around him. And even though they can’t hear what’s he is saying, they laugh when Isaac flinches.

Scott knows that Jackson probably had a bad night at home, his parents screaming at each other, at him, or worse. Knows Jackson isn’t really thinking what he is saying, he just wants someone to hurt as much as he does. But there are **limits** and Scott won’t allow anyone to hurt his pack, not even between them. He growls low and marches forward, pushing Jackson back when he gets close enough.

(“We are a family. A pack. We don’t attack our family, we don’t hurt our pack.” Scott was calm. Too calm. The type of calm his pack knew not to provoke.

Isaac bowed his head, his neck vulnerable. Jackson, by his side, merely looked away, his arms crossed. Isaac growled under his breath, glaring at the other beta. Jackson growled back, his back tensing, his eyes flashing.

"That's enough." Scott's voice was still calm, no growl, no anger. The command in it, however, was unmistakable. The betas looked down, silent.

"Jackson." The beta sighs, fidgeting in his seat.

"It was a misunderstanding." He finally says, looking briefly at Scott before moving his eyes away. Scott raises an eyebrow.

"A misunderstanding that involved five broken bones, a black eye, and two destroyed rooms?" Jackson shrugged, but stayed quiet. Scott sighs, moving his eyes to the other wolf in the room. Isaac flinches under the stare, rubbing his swollen knuckles.

"I'm sorry." He murmured, not quite looking at Jackson. The other man shrugged.

"I shouldn't have said that." He mumbled back. They all knew that was as far as Jackson was capable of when it came to apologies.

Scott looked between the two who only an hour before were ripping through the Den's walls, going for each other's throats. And he still doesn’t know what cause it. But he does know that pushing would get him nowhere, his packmates were too stubborn for his sanity.

“You have night patrols for the next month Isaac, and those walls won’t repair themselves.” Scott says. Isaac groans but nods, his head down. Scott stands up, mentally preparing himself for Chris’s angry lecture about wolves playing in the house.

“Wait!” Scott stops, tilling his head towards Jackson. The beta shift his eyes from his fellow packmate to their Alpha, his gaze distress.

“I provoked him. It’s my fault.” Isaac shots up from his seat, already shaking his head.

“I hit him first. It’s my fault.” Jackson gives him an irritated glare before looking back at Scott, a determined glint in his eyes.

“I was saying shit about his home life.” He says, smug, as if knowing that was the end of it.

“I knew you were having a bad day! I should have left you alone.” Isaac retorts, glaring at Jackson.

Jackson turns towards him, his hands on his hips.  They start bickering, both taking the blame and annoyed at the other for not allowing him to do so.

Scott just stands back and watches, trying to stop the amused chuckle from leaving his mouth. He fails, making both betas stop abruptly to glare at him.

“I’m sure you can figure out who’s fault it is in the next night patrol, seeing as you would be doing them together for the next month. And I want those walls fix before the end of the week.” He leaves then, still chuckling, with two very indignant wolves back to bickering in his office. )

“Back off, Jackson.” He glares, standing in front of Isaac, who looks surprised to see anyone defending him. Jackson and his cronies seems shocked that anyone would dare to stop their fun.

“Want to be a hero now, McCall?” Jackson says in a mocking tone, moving closer to Scott. The werewolf doesn’t back off, his gaze hard. Jackson doesn’t show it, but Scott knows his body language well enough to know he is uncomfortable.

(If it was his Jackson, he would be wrestling with him in the woods, until the beta calms down enough for Scott to lay on top of him, his hand against his throat, were he knows it makes Jackson feel safe, and wait for him to explain what’s wrong. But this is not his Jackson. This Jackson is human, and he hasn’t gone through everything that made him the strong, loyal beta he became.)

“Back. Off.” Jackson unconsciously takes a step back, confused and perhaps a little afraid. He clears his throat when he notices, and turns around, without giving Scott one last glance.

“Come on, coach will kill us if we hurt him before the game.” He says, walking away. His cronies, after giving them a last glare, follow him.

Scott can feel the tension leaving his body. Moons, he didn’t remember Jackson being this much of an idiot before the bite.

“I didn’t need any help.” Isaac murmurs. Scott turns around, preparing himself for the wave of hurt he knows he is going to feel.

He looks at Isaac, young, broken Isaac, who is too thin, his clothes too loose, his skin too pale, and he can’t connect his future, angry beta in this young child.

( _He doesn’t know if he should be relief or terrified. Was he already forgetting how they looked?_ )

“I know, but I was wondering if you would like to have lunch with me and my friends, and Jackson was interfering.” Isaac cracks a smile, which is enough for Scott’s own smile to grow.

Isaac nods, his curls bouncing around his head.

(Four down. So many more to go.)

* * *

 

Kate Argent drives her car, the wind messing her hair, the sun shining over her. She is relaxed, and content. After so long, she will finally get to eradicate the pests that are the Hales, and get a step closer to removing those beast from earth, permanently.

She can’t wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter yet! Hopefully all the others will be more or less of this lenght. 
> 
> Thank you all for the lovely comments and kudos, it inspires me to write more. 
> 
> I really enjoy this chapter, and I hope you did too. What can I say? I love writing pack moments. 
> 
> Kate is comming, so we will see how to deal with that. I hope you are all getting your predictions ready.
> 
> Do let me know if you liked it :3, I enjoy hearing from all of ya. 
> 
> Chapter tittle: One by one


	5. Regina Glacies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott might not be as good at pretending as he thinks he is. He might have also, maybe, forgotten what it means to be a teen.

   Derek has been a werewolf since birth, he learned how to control himself and how to use his abilities from a werewolf family, he _knows_ how to move silently for a hunt, and leave no traces behind. Which is why this makes absolutely no sense. _This_ being a young, new wolf, apparently not only able to sense him, but also track him down. Which, again, _what?_ _He_ hadn’t been able to sense when one of the older wolves was tagging him until he was _thirteen_ , hell, he only managed to successfully hunt and _catch_ his prey when he was 15 ( _one year before everything went to hell_ ). So a young, barely weeks old wolf _definitely_ shouldn’t be able to.

   And yet, there he is, his stance relaxed, his hands inside his front pockets, his head slightly tilled in curiosity. Derek doesn’t know if he should feel angry, or bemused, or scared, because _this should not be possible_ . He settles for his angry/indifferent self, crossing his arms tightly against his chest.

“Why are you following me?” The child repeats his question, his eyes strangely kind. Derek feels… _Something_ in his chest, something he hasn’t felt since…Since his mom. He ignores it, opting instead to scowl at the younger man.

“You are in _my_ property.”  He growls, almost instantly regretting it, because hasn’t he already decide he was going to be _decent_ towards this new wolf? If only so the Alpha won’t kill them both. But honestly, who can blame him? It’s almost midnight, and this kid just shows up in his territory, asking questions? Yeah, he might have been stalking the boy, but he shouldn’t have been able to _know_ that.

The teen looks around, as if only now realizing where he is. Derek bites back and irritated growl. He is tired, and wants to sleep. ( _He is grieving, surrounded by a burned house full of regrets, and he only wants peace to rage for his family, for Laura._ )

“Huh…Sorry about that. I was just…Following my nose.” He says, touching said appendage,  as if it’s _perfectly normal_ for a young wolf to use his five senses at their full capability. “It brought me here. So, why are you following me?” Derek debates with himself. This is the perfect opportunity to bring the other beta to his side, to make sure the new werewolf understands what it means to be part of the supernatural. It’s his chance. And yet…Derek spent the last few nights sitting in front of his sister’s impromptu grave, unable to cry because _this is his fault_ and he doesn’t deserve to mourn. Besides, he was never good with words. He doesn’t have the energy nor the aptitude to explain all the fucked up things the werewolf abilities will bring. So, he gives the simplest answer possible, and hopes it’s enough.

“We are brothers now.”  Derek is waiting for the worst. He expects rejection, and disgust, perhaps some confusion. Derek knows humans don’t really understand the concept of _pack_ , knows most bitten wolfs can never feel what a true bond feels like, what _connecting_ actually means. But he is so so _tired_ and that’s the only explanation he can give.

Scott smiles. A smile full of love, compassion and understanding. A smile someone only gives to those who are most precious to him. Derek’s breath catches, as a wave of sorrow grows in his chest. No one, not even Laura, has look like that at him in _years_. Scott steps closer, raising his arms, looking as if he want to _hug_ Derek. Hug _Derek._ He freezes, unsure how to answer, because, honestly, _what?_

  Scott seems to catch his hesitation, because he stops, instead putting a hand in one of Derek’s shoulders. Derek almost asks him to continue his previous action. ( _Derek hates himself in that moment. Goddamit, he didn’t want a hug ( ~~He wants a hug so so bad~~_ ) _, it’s been a long times since anyone gave him a hug.)_ ( _He is a werewolf, he **needs** touch. But no one wants to touch him anymore._) 

“Yeah. Okay.” Scott says, as if it was that simple, as if he didn’t only just met Derek. But Derek it’s too tired to care, to raw to reject a possible Pack. He allows himself some weakness, and leans against Scott’s hand.

* * *

Allison has been through too many schools to not know how short friendships are, to not know how a long distance relationship will never work, not for her, who never stays in one place too long for anyone to really love her enough. So she avoids it, avoids bringing too much attention to herself, and quietly waits for the next time they will have to move.

  This time, Lydia doesn’t allow her to. She is a whirlwind in heels, that decides Allison will be hers as soon as she sees her. Allison knows she should probably be more irritated, but Lydia is…Lydia is funny, intelligent, and ridiculously loyal. Lydia fills her days with sarcastic comments and so much fashion knowledge that Allison can now firmly say she knows what’s the latest trend. Lydia is the first person Allison feels might actually be her friend, which is really depressing, if she is being honest with herself.

  Anyway, Lydia is awesome, and made her days a whole lot better, so Allison is reasonably sure she won’t laugh if Allison asks after one of the unpopular boys in the school (She knows Lydia would have introduced her already otherwise). She is curious, and she hasn’t had an interest in a boy since…Ever. She guess she can give herself this much.

“Hey Lydia?” Allison murmurs, leaning against the locker besides Lydia’s, who’s currently re-applying her make-up. Lydia hums, delicately tracing the lipstick across her lips.

“Who’s the boy with the curly hair? I saw him at the lacrosse practice too.” This definitely catches Lydia’s attention, who has been trying to work her cupid magic in Allison, unsuccessfully, the last couple of weeks. She raises an eyebrow at Allison’s choice, her lips turn up in an amused little smirk. Allison thinks Lydia is judging her, or maybe she is just frustrated that the answer to all her match making was always a few lockers in front of her, either way, that little smirk doesn’t bode well for Allison’s future.

“Scott McCall. He is…Not very remarkable.” Allison knows that’s Lydia’s way of saying ‘He is a loser’, but she will give her points for trying. “Apparently got good at lacrosse during the summer.” Lydia’s eyes are glinting, and Allison has the very strong urge to run for her virginity. Her friend, it seems, got to know her pretty well since the school year started, because she clasps Allison’s wrist in a tight grip. “Let’s go say hello.”

And, well, Allison doesn’t have much say in the matter, as she is forcefully drag across the hallway. She retracts everything about Lydia being a good friend. She is a horrible horrible friend, who teaches Allison the very valuable lesson of staying far far away from any red head in her future. 

They are soon standing before Scott, and his friend that seems to be permanently stuck to his side (Steven? Stane? She can’t remember, and she doesn’t really care for it, she won’t see him again in less than a year, if her father keeps up the pattern). Scott looks surprised, but a smile soon replaces his confusion. His friend, on the other hand, looks like a fish, his mouth opening and closing without saying a word.

“Hello.” Lydia smiles, tossing her hair over her shoulder, the hand that isn’t keeping Allison there going over her waist. Allison, personally, thinks her friend resembles a very hungry shark, or maybe a mischievous fox. She is not sure who she should feel sorry for.

“Good morning, Lydia.” Scott smiles, inclining his head slightly towards them in greeting. Allison smiles back, trying to convey how sorry she is for this. By the laughing twinkle in his eyes, she is pretty sure he got it. Lydia frowns, confused and annoyed. She doesn’t like not having complete control of the conversation, and Scott is not following his script. And then her sharp eyes locates the easiest prey.

“Aren’t you going to say hello?” She asks, her smile growing. Scott’s friend moves his eyes from Lydia to his friend, as if unsure if this was really happening. Allison now knew who she felt sorry for.

“Hey.” She says, because honestly, the kid looks like he will break any second, and it’s pretty much Allison’s fault.

Scott turns towards her, his smile warm, his eyes firmly in her face. Allison is unsure how to respond, with those eyes so filled with love, staring at her as if she was the most important thing in that hallway. She opens her mouth, maybe to curse him, maybe to start loving him, maybe maybe maybe. She doesn’t know what sound her mouth will make, but Allison did always like taking chances.

“Mind tricks don’t work on me.” She never figures out what she was going to say, because Scott’s friend blurts out his first coherent sentence since they got there. They all stare at him, and Allison is glad to know she is not alone in her confusion, though Scott looks amused.

“Star Wars? Really Stiles?” Scott smiles, throwing an arm around his friend’s shoulder (whose name is apparently Stiles), who, Allison is sure, is currently praying for the ground to open and swallow him.

(She doesn’t love Scott. Not really, she barely knows the guy. But he was so incredibly…Warm. When you talk, his whole attention was on you, his regard, his love. Allison knows she could love this, could love him. But she also see how he looks at his friends, and she knows his love would never be only hers.)

“Stiles is being a Geek again?” A blond girl walks up to them, ignoring Allison and Lydia, and smiling at both boys. When Allison looks up at Lydia, she has to fight not to laugh. She has never seen Lydia so disconcerted, so out of her element. Lydia Martin just wasn’t _ignored_.

“You are part of my cult.” Stiles mumbles, his face hidden against Scott’s shoulder, who seems ridiculously amused by all of this, but still affectionally pets his friend’s hair . The girl snorts, nodding.

“You brought me to the dark side.” They both laugh, Stiles finally leaving his protective cocoon. Allison feels strangely out of place, like she is intruding in a moment that does not belong to her.

“Excuse me.” Lydia apparently has no such reservation, and talks above the other teens laughter. They quiet down, looking at them. Stiles and Scott appeared merely curious, even if Stile was more flustered than his friend, the girl however, is giving very strong ‘Fuck off’ vibes. Lydia, like the goddamn goddess she is, completely ignores everything related to the girl’s existence.

“I’m having a party this weekend. Come.” She is looking directly at Scott, and it’s pretty obvious the invitation is only for him. Every single high school student in their town dreams about those words coming out of Lydia Martin’s mouth. No one would refuse a direct invite. Her parties were legendary. Allison gives Scott a smile. Sure, Lydia is a horrible friend that puts her in awkward situations, but she also was an awesome friend that created opportunities for Allison’s cute new interest.

Stile’s eyes go wide, his mouth going back to imitating a fish. Allison is pretty sure he is much more shocked by Lydia’s mere presence than by the actual invite. The blond girl looks down, a frown firmly in her face, as she clutches her books against her chest. Scott’s smile is still in his face, but the warmth has gone out of it, and his eyes seem to have darkened.  He wraps an arm around each of his friends, bringing them closer to him.  She sees how the girl’s frown almost instantly disappears,  how Stiles leans into him.

“Sorry, we have a movie marathon this weekend.” His voice is calm, nice even. And yet, Allison gets the distinctive impression she is being scolded. Lydia shifts besides her, which it’s a pretty good indication she felt it too. He gives them one last smile, before moving towards his next class, guiding his friends with gentle hands. Allison sees them walk away, leaning closer to each other, laughter surrounding them. (She won’t acknowledge the jealousy she can feel growing in her heart. She doesn’t need friends. She is fine. )

“Thank you for trying.” She says, when their voices have faded away. Lydia, who a second before looked shocked, shakes herself out of it, a calculating glint entering her eyes.

“Oh darling, it’s like you don’t know me at all. Lydia Martin doesn’t try.” She turns around and walks away, the ‘click click´ of her heals resonating in the hallway, as all the students move like the red sea, knowing better than to stand between Lydia and an objective.

Allison sighs and follows her.  

* * *

“I have been thinking…” Stiles says, as he rest his head against the edge of the bed, a controller in his hands. Scott, who is the only one sitting in said bed, raises an eyebrow in curiosity, blocking his phone and putting it against the mattress.

They were waiting for Isaac, (who Scott might or might not have kidnapped a week ago) who went for drinks after a couple of rounds. The game Stiles and Isaac have been playing for the last four hours remains frozen on the screen.

“That’s dangerous.” He answers, teasing, a small smile in his lips. Stiles straightens, sticking his tong out at him, before flopping back. Scott chuckles, throwing him a pillow, that hits him straight in the face, making Stile splutter and sit back up, indignant, to glare at Scott. Scott grabs another pillow, a smirk in his face. The smirk falls, however, when he is subjected to Stile’s quite honestly unfair puppy eyes. "What is it?" He asks, a smile still playing in his lips. Stiles pouts for a moment, before going back to his previous position, this time hugging a pillow to his chest.

“Remember the night you were bitten?” Stiles ask. Scott doesn’t answer, only raising an eyebrow. Stiles nods, chewing on his lip before continuing.  “The body that lead us there…We…Haven’t talked about that.” He mumbles, looking at the ceiling. Scott tenses, his lips pressing together in a firm line.

“What’s there to talk?” He murmurs in response, leaning against the wall. Stiles shrugs, his fingers tapping against the pillow. Scott knows his friend, knows that’s a sign his mind is working a mile per second.

“I think I know who did it.” He answers, an excited smile starting to grow on his face. Scott stops himself from sighing. He doesn’t want Stiles to think he doesn’t believe him, or that he is mocking him, no, Scott knows just how intelligent Stiles is, knows the only reason he got his theory wrong the first time around was because of misleading facts and lack of information. Doesn’t mean Scott wants to deal with how difficult it’s going to be to convince his brother he is wrong.  

“Yeah?” He whispers, closing his eyes and waiting for the inevitable blow.

“Derek Hale.” Scott can feel Stiles' eyes on him, knows his friend is waiting for a reaction. Scott turns his head, opening his eyes.

“I don’t think it’s him. And even if it were, it’s a murder, Stiles. Maybe this time, we really should leave it to the police.” Scott knows the second the words are out of his mouth that it's the wrong thing to say. Stiles looks indignant, and hurt. He looks at Scott with a frown on his face.

“The police? Scott, man, what the hell? I thought we were in this together. You know? The mysteries? That’s our thing Scotty.” He sounds more hurt than angry, and Scott’s heart is honestly breaking. But he can’t. He can’t just say yes, because he knows Stiles will want to go to the forest. A forest brimming with hunters and angry supernatural beings. Scott wants to keep Stiles safe for as long as it’s possible. He knows Stiles can deal with it, knows he is damn strong and brave when he needs to, knows he will eventually get involved, but Scott… Scott wants to keep his friends as uninvolved with the supernatural war as he can. “You have been acting weird, Scott. I gave you time, I thought you were adjusting to the werewolf thing,  but it’s been almost a month. What’s going on?” Stiles looks directly into his eyes, and Scott knows he won’t be able to lie. Not to him. Not to the person that stuck to his side through everything, not to the brother he saw die to send him back in time. He opens his mouth to answer, to tell him everything, but the creaking of the stairs stops him. He looks towards the door, where he can hear Isaac moving closer.

“Later.” He says. Stiles looks mutinous, still frowning, but Scott knows he will listen. (Scott forgets this is not his second in command. This is not the brother he went to battle with. Not the person that learned to obey after a thousand bloodbaths. This is not his Stiles.)

Isaac enters the room, smiling, balancing three drinks in his hands. Scott relives him of his burden, sitting back in his bed and watching them go back to their game.

* * *

He is sleeping, one arm wrapped around Stiles (because his friend might be pissed at him, but neither of them wants to repeat the experience of the first and only time Scott has tried to sleep on his own since he came back), Isaac laying on a mattress on the floor by his bed.

(It’s the first good sleep he has had in weeks.) (It’s the last good rest he will get in a while.)

A howl, full of pain, wakes him up.

He springs up in bed, gripping Stile’s arm tightly. His heart has frozen in his chest, his blood running cold.

“Scotty?” Stiles ask, waking up. Scott can hear Isaac waking up, knows he has both of their complete attention. He doesn’t consider the repercussion, the danger, because…Because…

“Derek.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the love, I dunno what to do with it, but thank you.  
> I know not much happened here, but action will be coming soon! (And this poor author will end semester, so yay! I will have actual time!) 
> 
> Please do tell me what you love, or hate, or theories, or anything. I like reading comments ;-; 
> 
> Tittle: Ice Queen. Dedicated 100% to Lydia because she IS A QUEEN.
> 
> PD: Please tell me if you see any mistake so I can fix it :3


	6. Flavo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott doesn't know how not to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.  
> Stiles is worried.  
> Melissa is worried.  
> John is worried.  
> Everyone is worried. 
> 
> Except Isaac. He is just confused. He will worry later.

     Scott doesn’t know how he leaves the house. Doesn’t remember Stiles gripping his wrist and dragging him to the Jeep, doesn’t remember Isaac trailing behind, Scott’s long pajama pants, which Isaac has been using for the last week, the only garment on the teen. Doesn’t remember arriving to the edge of the forest, jumping out of the still moving car and _running_. Doesn’t remember Stiles and Isaac yelling after him.

   The only thing his mind is aware of, is the pain he can feel from a new born bond, the blood he can smell even miles away. As he runs, he falls down on four, ignoring the changes his body goes through. He runs and runs as his fangs grow, as the fur replaces human hair, as his feet and hands change into paws. ( _He runs as his body **sings** with the moon._)

(He doesn’t allow the relief that grows in his chest to spread further. _Of course_ he could still transform. _Of course_. He is still a werewolf. He is still strong. His wolf hasn’t abandoned him. ~~The alternative it’s unthinkable~~.)

    After that single howl of pain, Derek stayed quiet. Scott, however, doesn’t need sound, for the blood of his packmate it’s enough. ( _He will reap apart whoever made him bleed)_.

   He founds him leaning against a tree, his eyes bright blue, holding his bleeding arm against his side. Every breath is shallow and he seems unaware of the giant wolf in front of him. Scott growls, nudging Derek’s leg, his ears standing up, looking for any small sound that could mean an enemy. Derek, tiredly, opens his eyes, only to jump back, startled, when he sees Scott, the spike of adrenaline allowing him that small movement.  Scott rumbles, annoyed at the other wolf’s unnecessary action, which only succeeded in making the wound bleed more.

   “Scott?” He murmurs, eyes wide. And, yeah, okay, Scott knows not all werewolves manage to transform completely, knows it’s even more rare in bitten wolfs. But they were in the middle of hostile territory, Derek was _hurt_ , and Scott didn’t have time for this shit. Derek, however, doesn’t seem to feel the same, as he keeps staring at Scott.

He hears a gunshot near them.

Yeah, no. Enough its enough. He snags one of Derek’s pant legs with his teeth, pulling him towards safer territory. They haven’t move more than two steps before Derek is falling down, a small cry of pain leaving his mouth. Scott whines, rushing back to lick Derek’s face, who grumbles in response. Glad that his packmate it’s still conscious, Scott bumps his shoulder.

“Let me rest.” Derek mumbles, his eyes half closed, as his body stays sprawled on the ground. Scott growls, his head moving towards the approaching footsteps, before nudging Derek again. He lowers his chest until it touches the ground, his back legs hunching, ready to sprang up. He waits until Derek is looking at him to point to his back. Derek, whose senses are apparently useless right now and doesn’t seem even a little preoccupied by the approaching hunters, shakes his head.

“I’m not going to lay on your back.” He grouses, moving enough so that he is no longer on the ground, but kneeling by Scott’s side, keeping his injured arm close to his chest. Scott would love to roll his eyes, bickering with his packmate until a compromise is reach, but they don’t have the time, and honestly, Derek’s pride it’s pretty low in Scott’s priorities right now. He puts his muzzle around the nape of Derek’s neck, biting softly, not enough to hurt, but firm enough to let the other wolf know Scott was very much willing to drag Derek like a naughty pup if needed to.

“Okay, okay. I’m moving.” Derek murmurs, his words starting to slur. (Scott marvels at the fact that, weak and almost unconscious, Derek _still_ manages to scowl fiercely.) Scott holds on for a couple of seconds, before letting him go, licking Derek’s cheek before going back down. He feels Derek’s weight settle on his back, the older (at least, physically) man arms wrapping around his neck.

“There!” And that shout from an unknown voice it’s plenty of a motivator to start moving. He runs, unsure of where, but knowing he has to get his packmate away from the hunters. With Derek so close and finally in his reach, he can smell the wolfsbane moving inside the werewolf’s blood. He needs someplace safe.

He allows his nose to guide him, every now and then looking towards his passenger, who with every second looks closer to passing out.

He breaks through the trees, arriving to the edge of the forest, where Stiles and Isaac where waiting, the Jeep behind them. ( _Of course, to Scott’s wolf, his pack will always be the safest place)_. Isaac recoils, raising his hands in a placating gesture . Stiles, by his side, merely looks fondly exasperated.

“You can turn completely into a wolf?” He asks, already moving towards Scott, soon reliving him from his burden. Scott shakes his whole body, trying to get rid of some of the blood, before transforming back out. By that time, Stiles has settle Derek in the Jeep’s back seat, putting the seatbelts over his body to keep him still.

“Why aren’t you naked?” Isaac asks, speaking for the first time, following after Scott, who was moving towards the car.

“Really? That’s your first question?” Stiles says, incredulous, as he jumps into the driver’s side. Isaac shrugs, getting into the car besides Stiles. Scott, who, if he is being honest, it’s not all there, most of his attention center in his hurt packmate, gets on the back, sitting in the small space between Derek’s legs and the end of the seat.  

“I’m processing.” Isaac murmurs, his head hitting the glass.

  Stiles answers, but Scott isn’t sure what he says. He blocks out everything that doesn’t concern Derek, stroking his packmates legs, the only place he can reach in the restricted space. He tries to take some of his pain, but the wolfsbane is restless, moving and burning  everything within his touch, which, in this case, it’s Derek’s body.

* * *

Isaac watch Stiles pace, Scott looking at him calmly from where he is sitting on the couch, besides Isaac. Scott, who apparently is a goddamn werewolf. With fangs. And claws. An fur. Seriously, what the fuck?

Yeah. He is still processing.

“Hunters. Werewolf hunters are thing. And you didn’t think it was important to tell me?” Stiles says, not quite screaming, but close. His hands are moving everywhere, as if they can’t find the right place to show his agitation.  

Because, oh yeah, werewolf hunters are also real now. Because werewolf are apparently a goddamn thing.

“I forgot.” Scott says, his eyes moving towards the bedroom, where they have put Derek about ten minutes ago. Derek, who is also a werewolf, and who owns this half destroyed house. Isaac was in a werewolf’s almost-house, with his seemingly werewolf friend by his side, with a hurt werewolf in the other room.

God, what was his life.

“You forgot? You. Forgot? You forgot to mention there are people that want you dead. Forgot to mention one of said people daughters studies at our school. And completely forgot to mention that there are special bullets that can kill you.” Stiles moves faster with each word, until he is practically running from one side of the room to the other. Scott stands up, his hands raised up, looking as if he was going to talk to a spooked animal. Looking at Stiles right now, Isaac can’t say he is entirely wrong. Besides, it’s completely possible Stiles is also a werewolf. Hell, Erica and Boyd were probably werewolves too, or maybe vampires. What the fuck did Isaac know?

“Yes. I’m sorry. I didn’t….” Scott stops in front of Stiles, putting his hands on the other teens shoulders to make him stop. He looks away, grimacing. “I didn’t want to worry you.” He finish. Stiles face goes through several emotions, too fast for Isaac to decipher, but the last one it’s pretty easy to guess. He is furious. He opens his mouth, probably to tell Scott exactly what he thinks about that, but the werewolf, at least the one Isaac it’s 100% sure it’s a werewolf, doesn’t let him. Scott continues before Stiles angry lecture can start. “I will tell you everything as soon as I’m back. I promise. But we have to help Derek. That bullet it’s special, and we need one just like that to cure him.”

Stiles sighs, his shoulders dropping as he buries his face in his hands. “And where, exactly, would we get one?”

Scott grimaces.

* * *

“This is a stupid idea. You are not supposed to get the stupid ideas. You are the rational one in this relationship, Scott. You know something is wrong when _I_ think it’s stupid and reckless.” Stiles grumbles from where he is hidden behind a bush, watching the hunter’s house. Scott, who is beside him, huffs a laugh.

“Since when I’m the rational one?” He murmurs with a small smile, his eyes wandering over every room with a light on.

“Since you stop me from putting a spider in Jackson’s desk.” Stiles answers, rolling his eyes.

“That was in second grade.” Scott says dryly, giving Stiles a side glance before moving his gaze back to the house.

“And thus, you were named the rational one.” Scott’s only answer it’s a small shake of the head, amused.

Usually Stiles would be right there with him, smiling, pushing Scott’s shoulders, a laugh in his lips. But….But something has been wrong with his friend since he got bitten. Don’t get him wrong, he completely understands freaking out a little bit after finding out you are a supernatural creature but…Scott didn’t. Scott it’s calmer now, ridiculous over bearing and over protective, much more affectionate, and, okay, maybe he can blame that on the furry problem, but Scott…Scott it’s supposed to be a happy guy, innocent, like a puppy. Stiles swears that before the bite, the only reason the guy didn’t walk around with rainbows and sunshine pouring out of him was because he was too damn nice to blind the rest of the sullen mortal teenagers. But now…Now he is melancholy, nostalgic, sad. He panics when he doesn’t know exactly where his friends are, watches everyone with suspicion, gets lost in his head. Something happened. And Stiles has been patient. He waited, wary, staying close, welcoming any new faces, grips Scott closer every time he finally seems to the edge of breaking, ready to pick up the pieces. But Scott just shakes it off, keeps smiling, as if Stiles couldn’t see just how close to the edge he was.

 And now the same guy wants to walk into a house full of people that want him dead, in a suicidal mission to save a wolf that Stiles it’s pretty sure it’s a murder. There’s a desperate glint in his eyes, and Stiles can practically _see_ how he walks over the rope, balancing, trying not to fall down, trying to grasp an unreachable end.

So no. Stiles can’t laugh. Can’t do anything but watch, helpless, as his best friend is replace by a miserable stranger.

“Hey.” Scott grabs his shoulder, trying to make Stiles look at him. But Stiles can’t. He can’t, because he is too busy watching what he is sure it’s going to be his brother’s death place. “Look at me.” Scott asks, gentle, always so gentle, cupping one side of Stile’s face with his hand. Stiles, reluctant, tears his gaze from the hunters den, looking at Scott’s kind smile. “It’s going to be okay. I swear.”  Scott gets closer, until their foreheads are touching. “I swear.” He murmurs. Stiles doesn’t know when Scott learned to read him, when, exactly, Stiles lost any and all protection against Scott’s now sharp eyes. But damn if he doesn’t like it. (Stiles was never good with words. Never knew how to said what he needed. Never knew how to talk with _meaning_.) (Scott didn’t use to get it. He didn’t use to be able to read Stile’s mood with a glance.)

He is powerless, letting his weight fall, his body dropping. “Yeah. Okay.” He allows himself a moment, enjoying the tender touch his friend didn’t use to give.  “I’m will be waiting in the Jeep.” He says, pulling back, trying to smile, which he is sure is more of a grimace. Scott only answers with a nod, fondly giving him a last smile before standing up. “You have ten minutes before I call my dad.” He warns, gripping his keys tightly in his fist. Scott sighs but doesn’t fight it, simply nodding his acceptance.

And then he is gone, lost in the darkness around them, running towards a house full of murders.

This was a terrible, terrible idea.

* * *

 

 How could he have been so _stupid_? How did he _forgot_ **Kate**? She hunt them for years, destroyed their life time and time again, _killed Derek’s family._ And Scott just… _Forgets?_ He is a goddamn idiot. (He ignores the voice in his head, that sounds remarkable like the old Stiles, who reminds him that, at the end, Kate hadn’t been more than a speck. A small annoyance, compare to what had come after.)

( _“You can’t prepare for everything, Scott.” Peter chides, leaning against the wall besides the window, looking down at the rest of the pack, who are all resting in a puppy pile, their limbs tangle together. Scott grumbles, keeping his eyes firmly in his paperwork. The older man sighs, shaking his head._

_“You are not omniscient.” Derek, who is laying down on the couch by the door, tries reasoning. An irritated rumble is all he gets as an answer._

_“It wasn’t your fault.” Peter says, when too much time has passed without a word. Scott stands up abruptly, his hands hitting the desk. He keeps his head down, his back tense._

_“I send Ethan alone, and he almost died because of it.” He snaps. Both Hales ignore the rage in the Alpha’s voice. They know it’s not directed at them._

_“He asked to be send alone. The rest of the pack was too busy defending our border. It was supposed to be a rough animal, at most.” Derek says calmly, sitting up to look at the younger man. Scott shakes his head, tightening his hands into fists._

_“It wasn’t only a rough animal and I shouldn’t have let him go alone.” He drops back into his chair, pressing his hands against his eyes. “I should have known.”)_

He avoids all the triggers, glad the he knew every single Argent trick in the book. He is sure he would have been caught otherwise, probably die to be honest, what with all the deadly werewolves traps around him. (Chris would be pissed if he knew someone was able to get to his house without a single scratch. Then again, Chris was the one to beat the Hunter’s Basic Guide Book ( _“It’s a five centuries old book full of deadly hunting tricks, Stiles, not a goddamn children book.”)_ through all their heads, in the hopes they would survive longer.) (If only they knew then Hunters weren’t going to be their demise.) (The hunters would have been kinder.)

He can hear the family moving downstairs, their soft conversation with laugher mix in between. (He stays for a second, his eyes closed, just listening. It’s been a long time since Chris and Allison sounded so light.) He breathes deeply, looking for the right room, grimacing in disgust when Kate’s scent entered his nose. He walks, silent, towards the window, his heart calm.

He gives one last sniff, confirming the identity of who is sleeping there, before jumping. He feels his body soar through the air, the wind caressing his face. Moons, he hadn’t done that in forever. It took everything in him to contain the bright laughter that was growing in his chest. (He doesn’t remember the last time he felt so free.)

But the wind only hugs him for a second, before he has to grab the ledge of the window. He stays there, his hand the only support for his body, as he listens for anyone moving closer. The four of them were still in the dinning room. Good. He breathes out, pulling himself up and over the ledge, landing softly in the expensive carpet. He looks around the small, comfy room, where hundreds of Argents have lived before (He would appreciated more, if he wasn’t able to smell the blood that dominated over any aroma in the house).

Kate’s bag it’s in the bed, unpacked.  (He remembers how this went last time, with his blushing stammering self, so unsure, and with Allison, clever clever Allison, who always knew how to act fast, even if she wasn’t entirely sure what she was protecting him from.) He was nervous, the first time around, terrified of Allison’s dad finding him, of anyone discovering he was stealing from Allison’s _aunt_.  This time? This time _he doesn’t give a fuck_.

He walks towards the bag, his steps soundless. He looks at the black material, knows he should open it, as quietly as he can, keep everything as undisturbed as possible, and take what he needs. He _knows_ doing otherwise would be monumentally stupid, could get him killed if someone heard him.  He knows all this.

But.

But Kate Argent hurt his packmate. She killed innocents for pleasure, took delight in others suffering. She likes to hunt, enjoys the feeling of blood in her hands.

And Scott?

Scott wants her to feel _hunted_. To _know_ she is not safe, anywhere. Wants her to experience what it means to be constantly frightened, because she knows something, _someone_ , is following her, watching her.

He smiles, a smile full of teeth, and gets to work.

(When Kate goes back to her room, all of her possession are strewn around the bed. Her gun is missing, as it’s every single bullet she brought. That is not what makes her breath shutter. No.

For a second, only a second she will never admit to, her blood freezes in her veins, because there, drawn with her clothes, it’s the Hale’s pack mark.)

* * *

 “We should buy a house.” The Sheriff grumbles, swinging the beer and taking a big gulp. Melissa, by his side, chuckles.

It’s their sometimes-monthly-sometimes-weekly-sometimes-daily reunion, where they go to the house of who is not having the pleasure of hosting Scott-and-Stiles (because yes, by now, they are one and the same). They bring drinks, snacks and anything remotely comforting. John, specially, enjoys bringing the biggest burger he can buy. And they talk, and complain, because they have weird ass kids and finally found _someone_ that understands. Because their respective partners are either dead or to engross in work to care about family. Because he is a Sheriff and she is a nurse and they both see the worst of the world.

“We can barely afford our own houses as it is.” She answers, munching a chip. John nods, easily in acceptance. They are both single parents, with demanding jobs that sometimes don’t pay enough, trying to raise two teenagers. Money it’s not exactly abundant in either of their lives. (Melissa doesn’t mention the monthly child-care pension she receives and never uses. John doesn’t talks about his wife’s savings, that he has yet to move from the bank. They don’t need to. Some money it’s too tainted to touch.)  

“I haven’t seen Stiles in almost a month. Which means you have been feeding him for a month. Honestly, I miss the kids, but Scott apparently decide he is keeping Stiles for the rest of their lives. And that means kidnapping my child and hiding him in your house. So yes, let’s buy a house. I will get to see them once in a while.” He grumbles, jokingly, as he looks at Melissa, a smile in his face. It’s an old joke, one they have been talking about since the first time the children refused to be separated for a _whole weekend_. Melissa, however, doesn’t smile, her gaze fix in the empty chips package in her hand.

John frowns, leaving his beer on the table and turning his body towards the woman.

“Melissa?”

She stays quiet for a while, before sighing, her shoulders dropping.

“Something it’s wrong with Scott.” She says, finally raising her head. Her eyes are sad, and scared. She doesn’t know what happened, doesn’t know how to deal with this new Scott.

John straightens in his chair, his mouth pressed in a tight line as he waits.

Scott-and-Stiles were one and the same. Which means John-and-Melissa practically raised them both.

They are single parents, with shitty jobs, with shittier salaries, trying to raise two kids, with their sometimes-monthly-sometimes-weekly-sometimes-daily comfort reunions,  because their partners are not there and sometimes things are too much. Sometimes they want to give up. But they have each other, and damn if that doesn’t mean something.

Melissa talks.

* * *

Scott looks down, seeing his hands clutching the side of the sink, the water running.

After they got back to the loft, they give Derek the antidote. Isaac hadn’t move from his position on the couch, only raising his head when he heard them entered. Stiles, likewise, hadn’t said a word since they left the Argent’s property.

Scott knows they were both waiting for him, knows they probably have a thousand and one questions, knows he can’t avoid it for much longer.

But…But he hadn’t felt ready, so he had run to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He needed a reminder of _who_ he was, of _what_ he was. He needed to remember what he was fighting for.

And he had felt _so sure_. His senses have been just as strong, his instincts as constant and durable as when he had first became an Alpha. And he had been able to _transform_. Something he had only manage _years_ after becoming an Alpha.

He had needed some reassurance.

Instead…

He raises his head again, in case his sight had trick him.  

Bright, yellow eyes looked back at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg guuuuuuys????? I don't know what I did last chapter, but like, I got so many comments and Kudos. Thank you all so much. I love you all. 
> 
> I want to write a super long note with lots of comments about the chapter, but it's almost midnight here, I have to wake up in like four hours and I have this test I know I'm going to fail. So. Not a very long note. 
> 
> I guess i just want to make one thing clear. This is and Alpha Scott Story. I love Alpha Scott. We will get there. 
> 
> Cya soon! I hope you like the chapter! Please leave any comments, my writing muse apparently eats love for breakfast. She is a mean mean bitch.
> 
> PD: Please tell me if I have any mistake. Not my first language and I would love to improve it. 
> 
> Chapter tittle: Yellow


	7. Motabilem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate it's not in a good place.  
> Scott it's not in a good place.  
> Peter is Definitely not in a good place. 
> 
> Isaac just wants to help.  
> Derek it's confused.

   Allison leans on the wall, pressing her ear against it. Unlike all the other houses they have been through the last few years, this one wasn’t updated yet, the walls weren’t sound-proof concrete. It was an old, if beautiful, house. And she was using it to her full advantage.

“Look what…..mercy….. I told you….dangerous. …… they are monsters.” She could vaguely hear her aunt, who she knew was very…agitated. Look, Allison doesn’t make it a habit to eardrops on her family, but when her aunt comes running down the stairs, clutching a knife and demanding to ‘kill him!’, even she can get a little curious.

   She was send to her room with her dinner plate, while her dad went to check out whatever had Kate so angry and her mom activating every single alarm on the house.

   And now here she was, sticking her ear to the wall like a child, catching snippets of the conversation.

“We…… the code.” Her father sounds calm, if a bit annoyed. She couldn’t blame him, really. They have been having the same conversation for the last half hour.

“The…..I….doesn’t….mercy….kill….Hales.”

 “….Hale…..haven’t….human.” Her father’s voice was firm, as close to yelling as she has ever heard him.

   And then the guest’s room door slams open, the sound of her aunt’s rapid footsteps down the stairs following soon after. She sighs, moving away and back to her bed, were a cold dinner was waiting for her.

   She didn’t know why her family was suddenly tense, didn’t understand why her aunt was worried for a fire that had happened years ago, didn’t want to be left in the dark. Unfortunately, that was common place in her family.

  For some reason, her parents expected her to believe they were a perfectly normal family, while hiding enough weapons to supply an army. Seriously, she _knows_ a closet full of guns isn’t part of the standard kit for the average family.

   Oh well, at least she will have a little mystery to entertain her in this town. (The same mystery that hunts every second of her life.)

* * *

 

_(They are all laying down on the grass, surrounded by trees, the full moon shining on them. Scott has one arm wrapped around Isaac, the other around Lydia. Stiles is snuggle between Lydia and Scott, one hand touching each. Jackson has his arm around Scott’s stomach, his head resting on Isaac’s hip. He knows Derek and Peter are somewhere by his legs, and he can feel the rest of his pack tangle somewhere in the puppy pile._

_Most of them are asleep, tired after a night of running. Scott exhales, full of  happiness, feeling the bonds thumping in his chest.  How could he have ever thought he could live without this?_

_“Stop thinking.” Isaac mumbles, his eyes still closed, poking lightly at Scott’s ribs. Scott grumbles, trying hard not to move. He didn’t want to wake up anyone else._

_“Sorry.” He mutters, turning his head towards the beta. Isaac opens his eyes lazily, a small playful frown tugging at his lips._

_“You are not going to stop, are you?” He asks, exasperate and fond, already knowing the answer. Scott gives him an apologetic smile. “What’s wrong?” The beta asks, a yawn following soon after._

_“It’s nothing.” He murmurs, rubbing gentle circles into Isaac’s naked shoulder. The beta rolls his eyes, poking his ribs again with a pointed look. Scott tries to glare at him, and fails miserably. Isaac pokes harder. “You are impossible.” He complains, still whispering, moving his torso a little to stop those pointy fingers from reaching him. Jackson and Lydia both growl in protest, making him freeze. Isaac smirks, wiggling the fingers in his free hand threatenly._

_“I took too long gathering the pack, finally deciding to be an Alpha, and you all suffer because of it.” He confesses after a while, looking away from the beta and towards the night sky, where the full moon was dominating the otherwise dark atmosphere._

_He doesn’t need to explain. They can all see his failure in the scars around Boyd’s back, the farewell gift from the Alpha pack. In the marks around Ethan’s and Aiden’s bodies, the remembrance of what they had to do to survive after they became omegas. The white line around Lydia’s neck. The thousands of scars in Stile’s body. The shadow under Jackson’s eyes that never left after London._

_So many mistakes. So many regrets._

_He feels a hand against his cheek, and allows it to turn his head. His eyes, so full of shame, lock into Isaac’s._

_“You were a child.” Isaac’s voice is soft, but the words are firm. Still, Scott can’t stop the frown that grows in his face, his mouth already opening to contradict him, because that was not an excuse, it never was. But Isaac shakes his head, putting his hand over Scott’s mouth. “Please, listen.” Scott it’s still frowning, but he nods.  Isaac gives him a small sad smile before his eyes move around the pile, stopping every few seconds in a face. “We all make a lot of mistakes those first few years. We fought with each other, we hurt each other, hell, we even try to kill each other every few months. We were all lost.” Isaac looks at him, smiling gently. “Just because you are an Alpha, doesn’t mean you are automatically perfect. And it’s worse for you, because you think you have to take care of us. You think you are responsible for every bad thing that happened. But, Scott…” Isaac’s voice gets firmer, a yellow flash going through his eyes. “We are a pack. We take care of each other. And we all had to learn how to do that before we could become a pack.”_

_Scott wants to disagree. Because it_ was _his responsibility and he_ should _have been better. But his pack it’s stubborn, and he will most likely be subjected to sad eyes and puppy piles for the foreseeable future if he does. So he brings Isaac closer, burying his face in Isaac’s curls and hums, hoping the beta will take it as the agreement it isn’t._

_“Now that that’s clear, go back to sleep. I have a test tomorrow.” Lydia grumbles, receiving affirmative amused sounds from the rest of the pack, who have all awaken sometime during their talk. Scott chuckles but complies, closing his eyes._

_He doesn’t know how he lived without this, but he knows he will not be able to live without it again.)_

* * *

 

Scott walks out of the bathroom, his face wet. ( _Not with tears. Never tears. Not anymore. Just water, because surely, **surely** , this was a nightmare._) Isaac was in the exact same place as before, whereas Stiles has move to the couch, sitting down besides Isaac. They both look up when he enters, but only Stiles seems to catch his turmoil.

“So….Werewolves.” Isaac says, his voice breaking the silence. Scott doesn’t know when he got so close, when exactly he sat on the couch in front of the two humans, but it must have happened, because he was there, staring at both teenagers. He remains quiet.

“Yeah. They are a…thing.” Stiles answers instead, a concerned frown marring his face as he looks at Scott, who was staring blankly at his hands. Isaac doesn’t notice, his gaze locked on the wall, a faraway look in his eyes.

“Are you also a…?” He mumbles, tilling his head towards Stiles.

“Yep.”  Stile’s voice sounds completely serious. Scott raises his head to watch them, noticing Stile’s twitching lips, fighting a smile.

“Really?” Isaac’s voice was skeptical, his brow furrowed. Stile’s face remains serious for a few more moments, before the façade crumbles. He rolls his eyes, the smile finally winning the battle.

“Of course not. I can barely run a kilometer without dying.” Isaac smiles, bumping his shoulder against Stile’s. Scott it’s glad they can joke around after everything. He is so damn happy Isaac didn’t run away as soon as they got Derek into the house, and so grateful Stiles is always by his side. But even then, he can’t force his mouth to smile. How is he supposed to protect this?

“So…Were you…born like this?” Isaac asks, looking at Scott. He shakes his head, opening his mouth to explain, but his voice refuses to leave his mouth.

“He was bitten.” Stiles says after a while. Scott just nods. ( _He is moving through the motions. He is forcing himself to act. To stay._ ) ( _Please don’t ask him to do more. He can’t do more._ ) 

“Like… A vampire bite?” Isaac sounds amused, his voice lighter than what it was at the start of the night.

“Exactly like a vampire bite. But with more teeth. And it’s a puppy, not a bat.” Scott nods again, scarcely hearing their voices, looking down. (Scott doesn’t see the worried looks they are both giving him. Doesn’t notice the tense lines around Stiles mouth, the hunch position of Isaac’s shoulders.)

He knows they keep talking, can hear them in front of him. He knows neither of them has left the room, can feel the presence of both humans. But he is not aware of much more. (He barely has enough presence of mind to remember he has to _keep breathing_.)

“Can you turn me into a werewolf?” The question finally forces him to look up. Isaac is watching him, biting his lower lip, his eyes hopeful. He looks nervous, clasping his hands with enough force they are almost white. Stiles, by his side, it’s looking at Isaac with wide eyes, his mouth half open, as if he had been interrupted mid-sentence. For all Scott knew, he probably was.

Scott swallows, trying to use his suddenly dry throat.

“I don’t…It’s not…I just…I would like to be able to defend myself.” Isaac murmurs when Scott stays quiet too long.

Scott knows he is talking about his father, can recognize the look Isaac gets when he thinks about him. Scott might have taken him out of his house for a little while, but he knows Isaac it’s just waiting for the moment everything crumbles down and he has to go back to his father.

The first time around, this was the main reason for him becoming a werewolf. And moons, Scott wants to give him that safety again. Wants him to feel strong enough to fight back.

Scott’s throat it’s dry, there’s a pressure in his chest that barely lets him breath, his legs feel weak and he is hardly functioning. ( _He can feel his heart breaking_.)

But this…This is more important. (This he can do.)

He stands up and walks towards them, kneeling down when he is in front of Isaac. He has to look up like this, but he stop fighting his instincts a long time ago, and this is what feels right. He takes both hands in his, a small smile finally gracing his lips.

“Only an Alpha can turn other people into wolfs. And I’m….” He stops here, closing his eyes as another wave of pain goes through his chest. “Not.” The word it’s strangled, only just managing to leave his throat. “But Isaac…” He grips the teens hands tightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to make sure Isaac knows he is serious. “He will never touch you again. I swear to you. Never again.” (He doesn’t know it, but his eyes flash a deep orange. Not quite yellow, not quite red.) Isaac stays quiet, looking at Scott, searching for something. Scott doesn’t look away, doesn’t move an inch, waiting for Isaac to make his decision.

He can’t force this. Can’t make Isaac trust him. So he waits.

Isaac takes a deep breath before nodding. He is not quite smiling, but his shoulders loses the tension they have been carrying. Scott knows Isaac is afraid of touch, knows he has yet to know there is a tender, soft, loving kind of touch. Knows he is, understandably, wary.

But…He can’t…Isaac looks so small, so afraid. And Scott…Scott _needs_ touch right now. He needs to feel he can do something.

He moves slowly, drawing Isaac closer, making sure his hold is light enough Isaac can move away if he wishes too. He doesn’t.

He tugs him down until he can wrap his arms around the smaller body, burying his head in Isaac’s curls. He feels the teen return the hug, his grip hesitant.

“Now you have done it. You unleash the werewolf mother-hen.” Stiles says. Scott doesn’t need to look up to know he is grinning. He hears Isaac snort against his chest, which makes him smile. He stops himself from commenting just how much more of a mother-hen Stiles is. He doesn’t want to scare off Isaac, after all.

So he holds Isaac, feeling Stiles by his side, and allows himself to breathe. To _smile_.

He can do this.

( _He **hopes** he can do this_.)

* * *

 

    Scott is sitting on the floor of Derek’s room, watching the other wolf’s chest rise and fall in a calm breathing pattern. Isaac is sleeping in the living room, probably curl on top of the couch. Stiles had left amid Scott’s reluctance , reminding him that their parents were very much willing to start a hunt if neither of them arrive home. At the end, Scott had grudgingly agree.  He still remembered Stile’s twelve birthday, when they have decided they were old enough to travel to the next town. They have yet to live down the manhunt that follow it.

    Derek has thus far remain unconscious, not showing any signs of waking up, but Scott isn’t too worried. Wolfsbane can be hard on the body.

   He is falling asleep ( _he is not allowing himself to think._ )( _He can’t. Not right now. He needs to rest. Process._ ), his head resting against his knees, when once again a howl pierced into the night. This time, however, it was not a cry for help. No, it was a howl full of _rage_.

  He jumps up, his heart beating against his ribcage. Instinctively, he reaches out with his senses. Derek, calm, breathing. Isaac, safe, sleeping. (Stiles…Stiles? Lydia? Erica? _Boyd? Jackson? Allison? Ethan? Aiden? Liam? Jordan?....No. No. They weren’t pack yet. Where was his pack? **Who** was his pack?_)

Focus.

He had to focus.

There was danger, somewhere. He was…He was in the past, yes. And the only werewolves in this time in the town were Derek, him and…And….

Peter.

Moons, Peter.

He runs out of the room, intending to follow the sound, but the sight of Isaac, peacefully laying on the couch, forces him to stop.

He can’t just leave them. They aren’t safe.

But. But Peter. And all his vulnerable packmates sleeping in the town.

Stiles.

Fuck. He can’t leave. But he can’t stay. His pack needs him. His pack that wasn’t really his pack. He can’t be at two places at once. But he can’t choose. (He can’t do anything. He is useless. He is always useless. )

“Go.” A voice murmurs, heavy with sleep. His head snaps towards the sound. Isaac has half an eye open, still mostly asleep. “I will stay with Derek and call you if he wakes up. Go wherever you need to go.”

(Isaac knows he is weak. Knows he should have stand up for himself a long time ago. But he never saw the point of it.)(He never really had friends, never knew the meaning of it. He was always alone. And he was fine with it, really, he was.) (What Isaac doesn’t know is how far he is willing to go for his friends. How brave and strong he will become when someone else needs him.) (Right now, he has his first group of friends, and he still doesn’t understand just who he can become, but he does know that Scott it’s in the middle of a dirty living room, freaking out without any apparent reason, moving two steps towards the door before going back.) (So he does the first thing that he thinks might help, an offers whatever peace he can give.)

Scott stares at him, eyes wide. Isaac wasn’t a werewolf. Derek was hurt. He couldn’t just…Leave. Isaac didn’t understand how much danger they could be in. But…

( _“We are a pack. We take care of each other. And we all had to learn how to do that before we could become a pack.”_ )

“Okay.” He whispers. (Maybe he is starting to trust this younger version of his family.) ( _Or maybe this Isaac reminds him of his Isaac, the Isaac that stand by his side through so much. The Isaac that always shu him away with a gentle smirk._ )

He turns towards the door, hesitating only a second before running out of it.

* * *

 

Laura used to avoid the hunters as much as she could. They were weak, a pack of two, and she knew they wouldn’t survive for long if the hunters decided they were their next prey. So she allied what little remained of the Hale pack with the nearest strong pack, and kept a low profile.

Hence, Derek knew how to avoid them, how to hide, but…the pain of their bullets, their torture, the wolfsbane…Yeah, no. They didn’t go as far as practicing it between them. He wasn’t sure if he was glad or not, because damn, it hurt like a bitch. But a little forewarning would have been nice.  

He opens his eyes, looking at the black burnt wood of his childhood home. Groaning, he raises up slightly, using his elbow to support his upper body.  There was no one in the room, but he could still smell the faint scent of another wolf, lingering in the air.

Scott.

Scott was a full shifting werewolf. How the hell was Scott a full shifting werewolf???

Wait. Fuck. Hunters. There were hunters in the woods. There were _Argents_ in the woods.

He sits up, putting his feet against the cold floor. For a few seconds, he stays there, trying to ignore the agonizing pain reaping through his shoulder. Goddammit, wasn’t he supposed to be cured already?

“Wow, hey! Maybe that’s not a great idea…” A tall, lanky teen, stands under the threshold of the door, holding a glass of water in his hands. Derek has questions, a lot of questions, starting with ‘who the hell is this kid?’ But he also knows how to prioritize, and the kid doesn’t look dangerous, so he starts with the most pressing matter.

“The hunters?” He asks, perhaps a bit too harsh, judging by the flinch of the teen, but he has no patience nor time to take care of fragile sentimentality. 

“I…Uh…Hunters?...I don’t know… No one was with you when Scott brought you…” The child murmurs, hunching his shoulders. Derek growls. Of course he gets stuck with the ignorant kid.

The kid flinches, again, raising the glass up, as if intending to hide behind it. He looks like an adorable lost cub. Derek doesn’t know how to deal with cute cubs. This was not his alley. But he was pretty sure his mom would raise from the dead if he makes him cry. So Derek toughens up, and resolves himself to being…gentler.

“Is that for me?” He nods towards the water. The teen doesn’t flinch, but it’s a near thing. He nods, but doesn’t step closer. Well, it’s an improvement. Derek counts it as a win.

“Scott?” He tries again. The kid must know _something_. But the child only shrugs, mumbling something about ‘running off’, low enough not even Derek’s werewolf hearing it’s enough to catch it all.

Derek sighs, intending to raise his hand to tousle his hair, a nervous tick he has never manage to erase, but the pain stops him. Damn shoulder. Damn bullet. Damn hunters. Damn everything and everyone that got him to this point.

“So…How does it feel to be a werewolf?” The kid, whose name Derek doesn’t even know, asks, nonchalant, as if it was an everyday conversation topic.

Considering that the only humans that usually knew about the supernatural were hunters, the kid’s knowledge wasn’t all that comforting.  But he didn’t smell like gunpowder, or metal, or wolfsbane, so he was either a very shitty hunter or…Something else that Derek hasn’t quite figure out.

“Uh…What?”

The kid stares at him. Derek stares back.

Fucking. Hunters.

* * *

 

Scott growls, lashing with his claws.

His shirt is completely destroyed, tear into pieces a while ago. His bare chest it’s covered in scratches, as it’s most of his arms. His pants are, fortunately, not as damage, though half of the right leg its hanging by a thread. ( _He can almost hear Lydia complaining about his complete lack of care in his clothes._ )

Peter ( _And moons, how he **aches** to see him like that. Like a beast, completely out of control, without a single hint of recognition. There’s nothing of the witty, sarcastic, caring asshole Scott got to love._) doesn’t look much better. His whole body it’s covered in scratches, bright red eyes fill with rage. He snarls, backing away to avoid Scott’s swipe.

Scott knows that, even if it seem like they were currently in a tie, Peter was an Alpha. The injuries in Scott’s body will take longer to heal, whilst Peter’s is already starting to recover. Eventually, Scott will not have the strength to keep going. ( _He is weak. Why did he think it was going to be different this time? Scott will always fail in protecting his family._ ) (But he won’t stop fighting.) ( _He can’t stop fighting_.) ( _It’s the only thing he knows how to do_.)

The Alpha roars, his white teeth smeared with Scott’s blood from the couple of times he managed a bite. He stands in four, his back legs bend slightly, ready to attack. Scott pushes away from the wall he was thrown into, growling, his claws resting by his side, ready to be used.

Peter runs towards him, his jaw snapping, the claws scratching the grey concrete under him. Scott throws his right leg back, bending his knees, throwing his arms in front of him, preparing to take the blow.

They clash, Peter’s much bigger body pushing Scott back, his jaw clamping on the Beta’s shoulder. Scott groans in pain, and yet, he pushes against Peter’s body, stabbing his claws in the Alpha’s back, just enough for it to cause pain, but not permanent damage.

Scott can _feel_ his flesh giving into Peter’s teeth. Knows neither of their bodies will be able to hold for much longer.

( _“You have to give it all, Scott. You won’t win otherwise.” Peter smirks, crossing his arms against his chest. Scott, who is laying on the ground, groans._

_The asshole laughs. Seriously, why did Scott thought asking Peter to teach him was a good idea? The guy was a damn sadist._

_“You are holding back.” Peter says for the hundred time. Scott really wants to glare, but all his energy it’s currently concentrated in getting his breath back. He hears Peter sighs, and feel him kneel down by his side._

_“Fight me like I’m your enemy.” Scott looks at Peter, the corner of his mouth turn down. Considering their history, he doesn’t like it when Peter refers to him as such, even if it’s for a mock fight._

_“But you aren’t.” Scott says. Peter rolls his eyes, standing back up and offering his hand. Scott takes it with a small smile._

_“Not the point.” Peter grumbles. Still, Scott can see the grin he is trying to fight._

_“You will never be.” Scott continues, ignoring Peter’s comment. Likewise, Peter ignores him, turning around to start barking orders. Scott laughs and obeys, going back into position. )_

He digs his claws deeper, making Peter whine, loosening his hold enough to allow Scott to move away. He withdraws his claws and jumps back, feeling the blood rolling down his arm. He can’t see Peter back, but he knows it’s in a similar state. They stare at each other, their eyes flashing.

A bullet hits the pillar by their side.

They both turn their head towards the attacker. Kate Argent stands in front of the building, sneering, a gun pointed towards them.

She is under the only light in the street, they destroyed all the others a while ago. He knows she can’t see much, probably only Peter’s silhouette. Still, he can feel the panic growing in his chest. ( _Peter was hurt. She was here to hunt **Peter**. To **kill** him. And it was his fault. He was the one to mock her, scare her. And Peter was going to diediediedie_.)

Scott roars. (It’s weak. Nothing like before. But surely…Surely it was enough to grab Kate’s attention.)

Kate stumbles back, surprise, the hand holding her gun trembling. She was not expecting more than one. Peter growls back, lowly.  Scott stares, breathing heavily. For a moment, no one moves.

Then Peter shakes his head, roars, and turns around, running away. Kate tries to shoot him, but her aim is weak and her vision it’s practically non-existent.

When Peter disappears amidst the dark buildings, Scott can feel a weight leaving his chest. Peter was fine. Peter was safe.

The adrenaline leaves his body, making him feel every single one of his injuries. He wants to close his eyes and rest. Just for a second. Black spots are appearing on his vision, the blood lost  finally making itself present.

( _“Rule number one. If you survive, make sure that when you wake up you are still alive.” At Scott’s blank face, Peter grumbles, sighing. “Go somewhere safe, Scott.”_ )

Safe. He has to….Safe.

He can hear Kate cussing, hitting the side of her car.

Not safe.

Where?

He moves.

* * *

“Scott?”

Scott doesn’t recognize the voice. He is not sure where he is. But.

Safe.

It’s safe.

He blacks out.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scott, baby, don't be too hard on yourself ;-;  
> Yeah… Mentally...Scott it's in a really bad place. It's going to cost him later on. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! It was hella difficult to write. And turn out really different than what I had planned…
> 
> Anyway! Thank you all for all the support, your love inspires me to write more ;^; 
> 
> Please leave your comments. I love hearing from all of you. (I would specially like to know if you can all figure out who Scott went to.) 
> 
> Cya! 
> 
> PD: FINALS WEEK IT'S HORRIBLE.
> 
> Chapter name: Moving


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